


_Two Little Hitlers

by glenarvon



Series: _Brilliancy [9]
Category: Watch Dogs (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:11:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3701653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glenarvon/pseuds/glenarvon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aiden and Damien in the twilight of their partnership, just before the Merlaut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	_Two Little Hitlers

**Author's Note:**

> "Two Little Hitlers" by Elvis Costello is the perfect commentary on Aiden's and Damien's relationship, just listen. It's also been one of my favourite songs for a long time.

[takes place in september 2012]

* * *

Damien buried his hand in the girl's hair and yanked her body into the wall. She shrieked and tried to kick at him, but she wasn't seeing so well with hair in her face and she'd been meeting that wall twice already. She clawed at him with her hands, digging her long, manicured nails into his arms, chest and scratching the side of his neck.

Damien didn't want to even _consider_ what Aiden would say if he got himself beaten by a nineteen year old girl, even if she seemed to have some idea of what she was doing.

She tried to knee him in the groin, but Damien didn't relinquish his grip on her hair and used the moment to finally pull her off balance. She fell like a stone on her own plush carpet and Damien followed her down. He managed to turn her around, straddle her back. He used his grip in her hair to knock her head in the floor, once, but he wasn't sure how effective it was, the carpet was too soft and it only made her struggle harder, shouting a long string of expletives and kicking her legs uselessly.

She didn't stop struggling as Damien caught both her hands and wrenched them back. He pushed a knee over her wrists and fumbled the zip-ties from his back pocket. She winced in pain as he pulled them too tight, but finally seemed to calm down a bit, lying still under him.

Breathing hard, Damien pulled himself to his feet and she kicked at him, but missed by a mile.

"Well," Damien said, pulled his shirt straight. "Do you want a cigarette? Because I really want a cigarette."

The girl shuffled around like a stranded fish until she could roll to her side. She tossed her head back to clear some of the hair from her face and stare at him through the curtain of messed-up red-dyed strands.

"Do you even know who I am, you fucker?" she snarled.

"I know you're the little bitch who hacked into my computer and thought I wouldn't notice," Damien said. "And you blew my bookmaker scam. I liked that one, it was perfect."

"My parents are rich!" she yelled.

Damien arched his brows, picked an armchair and let himself drop into it, hanging one leg over the side as he took in the — now slightly trashed — apartment around him. An airy skyscraper loft, up high enough to have a nice view through the tall windows, modern furniture and an oversized television mounted on a faux-brick wall.

"I know," he said. "Do you think I could turn it into a kidnapping? Make some of that money back you lost me?"

"They'll hire a killer to take you out!"

"What? Stock brokers are into contract kills now?" Damien chuckled and then shook his head sadly. "For a hacker, you have an amazing digital footprint. How do you think I found you? I got a question for you… where do you have the copy of my hard-drive?"

"Fuck you, you creep!"

"You weren't even supposed to be here," Damien added. He rubbed a hand over the scratch marks and frowned. "Since you _are_ , you'd better be useful."

She stamped with one foot on the floor in anger, than heaved herself into a sitting position. She shook her head again, got some more hair from her face to reveal an angry glare.

"Fuck you," she said. "Pretty soon, my boyfriend will come home and you'd better hope you're gone by then."

Damien tilted his head towards the hallway when he heard a noise at the front door, watched the hope cross the girl's expression only to be wiped out the moment Aiden stepped into the living room.

"You're late," Damien said.

Aiden took a moment to look around the room before he fixed on Damien. "I thought I let you clean up your own mess for a change," he said. He arched a brow at the girl. "Tough fight?" he asked with a slight smirk.

"I've been thinking of keeping her number," Damien said. "For when she's ten years older."

"Pervert," the girl hissed.

"I agree," Aiden said.

Damien looked from Aiden to the girl and back, then shrugged. "You _both_ need to learn how to take a joke."

"Do you have the copy?" Aiden asked. He stepped across the room to the kitchen bar counter, leaned against it and crossed his arms over his chest.

"We were getting to that," Damien said.

The girl turned a baleful eye on Aiden. "Tell your asshole friend he can shove the backup up his ass because I won't tell him where it is! I'm sending both you jerks to prison with it!"

Aiden looked back at her for a moment, almost as if he contemplated her actual threat value. Then he bent her a smirk, "Sometimes I love working with amateurs, they make so many mistakes."

The girl blinked, taken aback and clearly unsure what she should say to that, but she caught herself almost immediately. She sat up a little straighter, tossed her head back and bared her teeth. "Fuck you both! I'm not saying another word!"

Damien looked at Aiden who bore his scrutiny in silence, then he frowned. "What? You want me to beat up on a teenager? You started it, you can finish it."

Damien caught the girl flinch from the corner of his eye and thought it was a good start. "No," he pulled up his nose. "Why would you think that? How about some cold reading? You've already successfully figured out she's a teen. How many hiding places can she even have?"

"Teenagers are psychopaths," Aiden said.

"I'm sure you were."

Aiden took a breath and seemed like he was about to say something else, instead he pushed himself away from the counter.

"It's probably somewhere in her bedroom," he said as he left the room. Through the open door, Damien could make out the edge of low, asian style bed. He watched Aiden's shadow move and after another moment, he heard the boot chime of a computer.

The girl made an inarticulate noise in her throat, something between frustration and defeat, Damien thought. At least she had stopped with her ridiculous threats.

Damien looked back at her, "I wasn't kidding, by the way," he said. "I do want a smoke. You got some? Cigarettes? Weed maybe? I deserve a relapse."

She only glared in response. Kids these days, no sense for self-destructive fun anymore, always hanging out in front of their computers and smart-phones, as if you couldn't do _both._

From the bedroom, it sounded like Aiden was going through drawers and shelves at a rapid pace, some things thudded to the floor heavily and once Damien saw a pillow fly past the door. A little while later, there was another boot chime and Aiden walked back into the living room with a tablet in his hand and a closed laptop under his arm.

"We know the stuff isn't on her normal rig," Aiden said. "And the copy's too big for a phone."

He looked at the girl. "You always keep your tablet with your underwear?"

"You're just another creep," the girl hissed, but she seemed to be running out of steam.

"Is there another copy?" Aiden asked.

She glared at him and bit her lip, keeping herself silent.

Aiden handed off the tablet and the laptop to Damien, then stalked to the girl and crouched down. Damien saw her legs twitch in indecision, not sure if she wanted to kick at him or not. Aiden saw it, too, but didn't seem bothered. The girl kept still.

"You made another copy?" he asked again.

"No," she finally said, voice tipping into a whine. "No, I didn't. I was just fooling around. Your friend's security setup looked like a challenge. I thought… what's he hiding behind that?"

"Yeah, now you know," Aiden said. "Don't try it again, sooner or later, you'd find some real sharks."

"Life lessons!" Damien announced cheerfully. "Brought to you live and free of charge by…"

"The guy whose name you shouldn't be shouting around," Aiden interrupted.

"… Grouchy Smurf."

"And I wouldn't classify it as free."

Aiden got up and Damien just about saw the last hint of a smile on his face, though he'd wiped it away by the time he'd come around fully.

Damien lowered the tablet. "No indication she's made another copy," he said. "Not on first look."

He looked past Aiden at the girl, "If there's more, you'd better tell me now, or we'll be back."

"No," she said, deflating despite her best efforts. "There's nothing. Just piss off!"

"Alright," Aiden said. "Let's go."

Damien swung his leg from the armrest and levered himself up smoothly, stowing both the tablet and the laptop in the canvas bag he'd dropped, when the girl had surprised him earlier.

Just then, something scraped on the front door, freezing both Aiden and Damien in mid-movement. Another scratch and the door was pushed opened. Aiden hurried forward and pressed his back against the wall by the door. Damien straightened up, bag still in his hand.

"Hey Liz! I brought pizza!" a male voice called.

The realisation washed through the room, hit Damien and the girl almost at the same time. He dropped the bag and leaped for her without thinking.

"Brad!" she screamed on top of her lungs. "HELP! Bra- _hnnn-nn_ …!"

Then Damien was on her and slapped his hand over her mouth as she picked her struggles up again.

Almost the same instant, Brad came through the door in a rush, pizza boxes still in his hand. Too fast and too careless. Aiden tripped him and punched a fist in his face as the young man stumbled forward, dropping the pizza as he buckled.

Brad didn't go down, though. He managed to balance himself and draw back through the doorway for a momentary respite and a chance to gather himself.

Aiden kicked the pizza aside and followed him, rushed him into the opposite wall and out of Damien's sight. Things shattered and broke in the hallway, the heavy sound of a body hitting a wall, the door. Someone grunted in pain and Damien wasn't entirely sure it was the other guy.

He released the girl's mouth. No point in keeping her quiet now and the good thing about these expensive places was their superior insulation. Wouldn't want your neighbour's noises to intrude on your privacy, would you?

Aiden and Brad appeared again, arms locked in some kind of mutually failing chokehold. Aiden pivoted them around, pushed Brad into the doorway hard enough to make the other's head bounce off the beam. But rather than being downed, Brad actually seemed to _use_ the momentum, snapped his head forward sharply. Aiden staggered under the head-butt, his grip on Brad loosened. Rather than try to hold on, Aiden let go of him, ducked away under his grip and pushed through into the living room. He twisted around, pulled the baton from its holster on his belt and extended it with a swing of his arm.

Damien hastily scrambled out of the way, close to the bedroom door to avoid any collateral damage, but he wasn't feeling too good about this. Through the years, he'd come to take Aiden's fighting skills more or less for granted. The man was a good shot, good with the baton, good with his fists. Damien had seen him hard-pressed a few times, but only when he was badly outnumbered, never just against _one_ guy, who was unarmed and unprepared on top of it.

Aiden lost the baton to a roundhouse kick, but he caught the leg before Brad could take it out of reach, twisted it against the other and brought him down. But Brad didn't stay down, he just bounced back like nothing had happened.

The girl had started cheering her boyfriend on, screaming encouragement at him, interspersed by random insults for Aiden or Damien.

"Shit," Damien muttered, watching Aiden and Brad indadvertedly trash the place. "Hey, Grouchy!" he called. "Stop playing around!"

But he wasn't entirely sure Aiden really was playing around, even if he still had time to snarl at Damien.

A kick to the knee made Brad buckle momentarily and Aiden used the moment to smash his face into the counter top, once, then twice before Brad somehow freed himself. He scrambled for Aiden's gun. Damien didn't know if he hadn't seen it before, or if he'd tried and failed to get at it. Aiden hacked down with his elbow and twisted away, jolting the gun from Brad's hand before he could get a good grip on it.

Aiden gave the gun a kick so it skittered over the floor and out of easy reach for either of them.

Brad used the moment to pounce again, sling and arm around Aiden's throat from behind and pull so tight Damien could see the muscles strain along his arm. They wavered back and forth, Brad trying to trip Aiden while Aiden struggled in the hold and fighting to stay up. The crashed into the side of the couch, slipped aside and tore a potted palm-tree down over them.

Behind the couch, Damien couldn't see much more than a tangle of legs and hear some more grunting, an angry growl he thought was probably Aiden.

"Shit," Damien said again. He stepped forward and picked up the gun, took off the safety as he round the couch.

Brad had landed on top and was capitalising on it, fingers wrapped around Aiden's throat, who didn't seem to be doing much against it anymore.

Damien considered shooting Brad, but he wasn't sure he wanted to deal with that particular fallout. He also wasn't quite sure he was okay with hitting Aiden. Instead, he lifted the gun and fired into the ceiling. The automatic rapped loudly and at least the girl's constant yammering was coming to an abrupt halt.

Small puffs of concrete dust and tiny chunks of it rained down on Damien.

If nothing else, the shot had startled Brad and Aiden used the chance. He thrust the flat of his hand against the underside of Brad's jaw and came up the moment Brad's fingers were loose on his throat. Aiden slammed his elbow into the side of Brad's face and with the same movement, reversed their positions, except he'd managed to lock one of Brad's arms under him.

The young man seemed a little dazed, his free hand scrambled for a handhold along Aiden's arm, pulling awkwardly on his collar, but before he could establish a real hold, Aiden caught his wrist and held. Damien saw the bright flare of Aiden's teeth, pulled into a snarl and flinched almost before Aiden yanked on the young man's wrist so hard to snapped, ugly crunching sound of breaking bone.

Brad howled in pain, then went completely limp under Aiden.

"Well, that was… new," Damien commented.

Breathing hard, Aiden flexed his neck, ran a finger along his collar and up traced the marks already forming on his throat. Brad whimpered and from across the room, the girl was screaming.

"What's going on? What the fuck are you doing! Leave him alone!"

Damien turned on his heel, the gun still in his hand. He tapped the muzzle against his chin. "The sharks my partner warned you about?" he asked. "That's actually us."

"Oh, shut up," Aiden growled roughly. He climbed off Brad and stood up, gaze fixed on Damien before it moved on to the gun.

"That's no toy," he added, reached for the gun. His face was flushed from lack of air, eyes narrowed dangerously.

"It's more accurate to say, it's _your_ toy," Damien said, as he gave up the weapon casually. "Have fun playing."

Aiden made no answer, he holstered the gun and went to retrieve the baton.

Brad was still whimpering, curled on his side and attempted to get up. Damien took a few steps away from him, just in case the man was determined enough to still try anything.

Aiden was still holding the baton, flexing his fingers around it and looking back towards Brad. Personally, Damien wouldn't exactly mind if Aiden gave in to that base instinct he had right now and went back to break all other bones in Brad's body.

Aiden folded the baton in his hand and put it away, with what seemed to be tense reluctance.

Standing in the centre of the carnage, Aiden looked back at Damien and said, "Well done."

"Wait," Damien drew out the word. "You think its my fault."

"You let a child hack your computer, then you let her ruin the bookmaker scam, she gets to make a copy of your hard-drive. A drive so full of incriminating files we'd both go to jail for the rest of our lives. And then you completely screw up a simple break-in. Of course it's your fault."

The girl made a noise and Aiden whirled around.

"I'll not try again," she said. "I swear. What's with Brad?"

"He'd better hope he's left-handed," Aiden said darkly. He tilted his head at her. "Let's get it out of the way quickly. Are you going to call the cops?"

She hesitated, then shook her head rapidly. "No… my parents would kill _me._ Not you."

"Good, tell the paramedics you had a household accident." He pushed his head forward a little. "If you change your mind about the cops, I'll finish you both off. Don't think I wouldn't know."

He waited just long enough for the girl's draining colour to confirm the threat had connected before he stepped forward and picked up Damien's bag, slung it over his shoulder.

"I'm done here," he stated, gave Damien a last glance, but didn't stay or say another word before he left.

In the silence, Damien found Brad's whimpering particularly aggravating. He gave him a shove with his boot and Brad rolled to his side, muttering a curse, but he made no attempt to go after Damien.

Damien tugged his hands away into the pockets of his trousers, watched the girl until she looked back at him.

"Are you _sure_ you don't have anything to smoke?"

* * *

Damien sat on a park bench in the sun. Late August had unexpectedly blessed the city with warm temperatures and lured the people back outside who had already settled for the rain and wind of autumn. A few children were running around and screaming just behind him, somewhat too close for comfort and their happy screeches cut through his concentration every so often.

Another man might be tempted to just kick back and enjoy the peace while it lasted, but _other_ men were dumb-fucks at the best of days and Damien didn't like being told by text when and where he was supposed to be, especially after his partner had given him the silent treatment for over a week.

Still, the sun felt nice on his face, beating colourful swirls through his eyelids when he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift.

He was torn from his revery not much later, when a shadow passed over him and it got cold very briefly while the sun was blocked out. He snapped his eyes open, then narrowed them when the glare suddenly returned.

Aiden had walked past, stopped by his side and held a cup of coffee out in front of Damien's face. He carried his coat folded over an arm, a second cup in his other hand.

"Oh, it's a date," Damien remarked, reaching for the coffee. "You should've said and I'd have worn a tie."

"It's coffee," Aiden said, climbed on the bench to sit on its back, draped his coat over the side and took a sip from his own cup.

Damien used the coffee to steal a lengthy look at his partner, trying to figure out if he was still angry or whether he could be reasoned with like an adult. With Aiden, you could never be quite sure if he had regressed to his gang state or not, especially when angry. A week had been enough to let the bruises on his face fade, but there were still noticeable marks on his throat, visible only because he had zipped his sweater down in the warmth.

"I've been thinking," Aiden said before the silence had managed to stretch to uncomfortable lengths.

He paused as if he expected Damien to say something, but Damien just waited. He was curious what ideas Aiden had been hatching on his own and _maybe_ he did feel a little bit guilty over that last incident.

"There's got to be a cleaner way to do this…" Aiden continued. "All that violence can backfire. Stealing from criminals is a good idea, but they take care of their own problems. At least cops got all that red tape to stumble over, a paper they've got to get signed before they can shoot you in the head. Sounds like a lot of wriggle room to me."

"One day, when you're old enough, I'm going to sit you down and give you The Talk about police violence," Damien said with a casual grin crossing over his face like clouds before the sun.

"I know everything about police violence," Aiden said, somewhat irritably. "You and me, the cops don't look at us and see criminals. Middle-aged white men don't get gunned down in the street or beaten up in an interrogation room when they ask for a lawyer."

He glanced down at Damien and added, "Nor elderly white men."

Damien let it pass and drank, focussing on the bitter pitch-black liquid as it ran down his throat. He put the cup down. "You know it's so sweet that you remember how I like my coffee," he pointed out. He saw Aiden only from the corner of his eyes and couldn't be sure of his expression, something vaguely impatient, probably, because that's what Aiden looked like most times these days.

"I cleaned up the bookmaker scam," Damien said. "Not a trace left. And the girl's been keeping quiet, too. I don't think there'll be any more nasty surprises from her direction. It's almost a pity, she's had talent."

Aiden said nothing; they both drank and the silence stretched heavily again in the sunlight and the contrast of the happily playing children. Somewhere not far away, someone started playing a saxophone.

"What have you been thinking about?" Damien asked finally.

Aiden leaned forward until he could catch Damien's gaze, then dragged it along over the lush green meadow and past some modern art sculpture. Aiden tipped his cup toward the tall building there.

"The Merlaut hotel," he said. "Classy place. More money walking in and out in a week than we make in a year. And did you know the Merlaut recently digitalised its administration with some help from Blume?" He made a small sweeping gesture with the coffee. "Everything on one network. They have an in-house app for their guests. They can order room service or switch the channel on the television, open and close the blinds, that sort of thing, all through their phone or tablet."

"Still not seeing the big picture here," Damien said, but it was already taking shape in his head. He thought he had read a news piece on it a few weeks ago, but he'd had his fingers in too many other things at the time to pursue the idea.

"We get in the Merlaut's network, we get into everyone's phones," Aiden explained with a hint of misgiving. He leaned back and folded his free hand over the back of the bench he was sitting on and watched the hotel. "They even pay their bills through their phones."

"Not bad," Damien nodded to himself. "Considering that you had to think of all that yourself."

"What I think," Aiden said sharply. "Is that if we get in the Merlaut's system, we can clean out dozens, or hundreds, of accounts in one go. People who frequent that place, they won't even notice if a few thousand bucks extra have gone missing somewhere. Victimless crime, basically."

He tugged on his collar, in case Damien had already forgotten about that mishap.

"I'm not so sure. The thing about rich people is, they're _greedy._ And they have a lot of pull," Damien pointed out. "Cops will be all over us."

"We just have to work cleanly," Aiden said. "Get in, get out." He lifted himself up, then slid down to sit on the bench by Damien's side. "No more fuckups. You're well over your yearly quota already."

"There's a quota now? Says the guy who got beaten up by my little girl's little boyfriend," Damien stopped himself and took another sip from the coffee. "Let's agree it was a mutual fuck-up."

Damien looked at his partner from the side. He didn't expect to get that admission, but Aiden actually laughed.

"Alright, I'll bite," Damien said. "What _else_ have you got?"

"The Merlaut has a long list of job vacancies, especially for IT people. So, I applied and I got an interview tomorrow. All I have to do now is get them to plug in a flash-drive. Won't be hard in the interview."

Even in profile, Damien could see the rare grin as it broke across Aiden's face when he added, "I get a trojan in, get into their network and we can reap the rewards."

He turned his head at Damien, arched his brows questioningly. "It's a two-man job. Are you in or not?"

**Author's Note:**

> The girl was originally supposed to be much younger, but I've managed to creep myself out with the innuendos and aged her up a bit to lessen the blow. 
> 
> **Revised on 03/May/2016 and 12/May/2017**


End file.
